


Meaningless.

by ClockworkSpades



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe - Arranged Marriage, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Angst, Arranged Marriage, M/M, Sad Ending, Technical but not romantic engport
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-22
Updated: 2017-12-22
Packaged: 2019-02-18 15:43:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,834
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13103364
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ClockworkSpades/pseuds/ClockworkSpades
Summary: To say 'I love you' casually, as if you don't mean it. Trying like hell not to mean it.





	Meaningless.

**Author's Note:**

> This work is from a tumblr request, the prompt and summary both from 'ten ways to say I love you' post by @foundlingsuggestion on tumblr.

Alfred smiled as he watched Arthur approach, a quiet snicker escaping at the dancing expressions of irritation and weariness crossing his features.

“Couldn’t get away fast enough, huh?”

Alfred spoke up once Arthur was within range, eyes still trained on him as he sat down heavily in the grass beside him.

“You have no idea.” Arthur’s sigh was long-suffering, hands planted behind him to support his weight as he tipped his head back.

In the moonlight, Alfred could see every line of Arthur’s face; the angle of his nose, the arch of his brow bone, the perfect peak of his cupid’s bow. He didn’t linger on any feature, skimming over them all and looking back to the castle before them. Always skimming.

Across the wide stretch of grass Arthur had crossed to join him stood the castle. Arthur’s castle. Arthur’s  _father’s_  castle, to be exact, but Arthur lived there. They were so far across the grounds that the music floating across the quiet evening was still faint, and the silhouettes in the yellow glow of the windows were small and nearly blurry. Though Alfred had often found that objects far away were blurry.

Arthur had come from there, the castle, the  _ball_. Arthur didn’t enjoy them, and Alfred could understand why. He was a noble too. He’d spent enough time in the stuffy rooms with the same songs and same people and same boring dances to be able to say with authority that the whole performance was a grand waste of time. It was just a diplomatic meeting dressed up in silk and violins. There was no fun to be had as soon as you realised your real purpose there was to make connections and deals and build a reputation. As soon as Alfred had realised, he’d ditched every single one he’d been invited to.

Arthur realised when he was nine years old, but he didn’t have the privilege of escape that Alfred did.

“It’s like he expects me to be happy just because it’s what I’m supposed to be.”

Arthur tilted his head down, gaze turned towards the castle again. Alfred knew because he looked when Arthur had moved. He always looked.

They’d become friends by accident. Alfred hadn’t realised he was talking to the prince when he’d gone off on a small rant complaining that the ball was a farce; hosted by the king himself, no less. But by the time Alfred realised who Arthur was, Arthur had already drawn him into another conversation of the nonsense of all noble fashions and traditions, and their similar opinions had made them fast friends.

Alfred was blunt, loud, charismatic, funny, and far more sly than his twinkling eyes let on. Arthur was quiet, observant, charming in his own way and far more intelligent than he even looked.

He was the silent watcher to Alfred’s brazen actions, the calm support to Alfred’s passionate ramblings, the bright laughter to his grins and jokes. Alfred’s moon. His best friend.

His  _friend_.

Alfred turned away from Arthur.

Arthur’s father expected much from him; how could he not? But he’d placed the world upon Arthur’s shoulders long before he was ready to carry it and expected him not to bow to the pressure. Every eye in the kingdom was turned on Arthur, had been ever since his birth; and every eye of the neighbouring kingdom. Their ally by the sea.

The allyship between the kingdoms seemed old as time itself. They knew it wasn’t, it was only a few centuries old. But the way the monarchies and the peoples interacted at the borders and the ports made it seem entrenched in the bones of each citizen. It was a good relationship. Which was why they thought it about time to join the houses of the two kingdoms into one family.

Arthur had been betrothed to prince Ricardo since he was a baby. Everyone in the kingdom knew it, they’d known it all of Arthur’s life, before he even understood what it meant. And now everyone was buzzing with excitement at the impending wedding. It would take place the week after the sixth centenary of the treaty that had bound their kingdoms together in the first place. Little less than two weeks now.

“It’s not like I object to it, it’s my duty. And you know Ricardo; I like him, I don’t see any reason it shouldn’t be a pleasant marriage.”

Arthur had a way of talking around things instead of talking about them. He would never be direct. Never admit outright to having issue or fault. He simply had to imply it. Asking Arthur about his problems was met with a brick wall. Alfred blamed Arthur’s father for that.

But he could wait. He knew if Arthur wanted to talk, he would talk. He also knew that he was the only person Arthur would ever confide these things in, and something about that knowledge spread a warmth in him he didn’t want to explain. Besides, he didn’t mind waiting if he got to sit beside his best friend for a few minutes longer.

He was always in the garden when there was a ball; knowing Arthur would need to escape and find his support at some point. He’d thought about just going to the balls like a normal guest before. But he would get bored, and Arthur would have to speak to everyone, and if they did find time to talk then they could be overheard.

Arthur could never relax in a crowded room.

“Ricardo is a nice guy.” Alfred conceded.

He was a nice guy. He was tall, shorter than Alfred, tanned, darker than Alfred, had long hair in a dark ponytail, thicker than Alfred’s. And he made Arthur laugh. He made Alfred laugh too. He played card games with them and raced them on horses and shared smart and kind thoughts. He was a nice guy.

The words always stuck in Alfred’s throat.

Arthur snorted.

“I know you don’t like him, Alfred.”

Alfred gaped, looking sharply back to Arthur just to find his friend fixing him with that bemused look.

“I do like him!”

“No you don’t. I know you, you hate him.”

Alfred’s mouth opened, closed. He didn’t hate Ricardo. Ricardo was a nice man, he had no reason to hate him. He was kind and smart and fair. He was well liked by his own kingdom and theirs. He had a handsome face and a warm smile. He was personable and easy to talk to. He was the sun in a human being. He was a perfect partner for Arthur.

Alfred hated him.

He didn’t have a reply for Arthur. He didn’t want to agree with him, didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of admitting he was right. He didn’t want Arthur to laugh in that self-satisfied way and roll his eyes. Most of all, he didn’t want Arthur to deal with the knowledge that his best friend hated his fiancé.

Arthur had never once complained about his engagement. In all the time Alfred had known him, Arthur had never complained. Never implied, never suggested, never danced around any grievance that his attachment gave him. Alfred knew it wasn’t because he loved Ricardo, wasn’t because he was happy about it. He had simply resigned himself to apathy on the subject.

It was his duty, so he would perform it.

Alfred hated duty.

“…I just think it’s not fair that you don’t get to pick who you marry.”

“I’m a prince, Alfred.” Arthur shook his head, a sigh escaping his perfect lips as he tilted his head up to the stars once more, moonlight bathing his face. “I never had the choice. You can’t hate him because of something neither of us can control. In exactly the same way, he’s in the same spot as I am. By that thinking, you should hate me too.”

“I can’t do that, I love you.”

The words slipped out, a nonchalant counter to Arthur’s deliberately ridiculous suggestion. He’d never said those words aloud before. They hung in the air like falling snow, clinging to the space between them like Alfred could reach out and grab them and they’d melt away if he was only fast enough.

It didn’t mean anything. It was a simple, honest response, an instinctive reaction. It didn’t mean anything. It was just the truth, an unspoken one, a plain and obvious fact. It didn’t mean anything. Arthur was his friend, of course he loved him.

Alfred begged a silent deity that it didn’t mean anything.

Arthur turned to look at him slowly, his eyes a little wider than normal but Alfred pretended it was just the way the silver light reflected in the whites of his eyes.

It was silent for a long moment, as if the air were suddenly made of brittle glass and one word would shatter it to thousands of tiny pieces. Arthur stared at Alfred. Alfred stared back and tried to reassure himself that the beating of his heart was not as loud as it sounded in his ears.

Arthur slowly looked away.

“Right.”

“Right.”

Alfred’s voice was hoarse. He told himself it was the long silence.

“It’s okay. You can tell me all about how much you hate the system on my wedding day. I’m pretty sure criticising the marriage is best man duty number one, right?” Arthur looked back to him, that quiet smile he only had when they were alone together back at the corner of his lip.

Alfred’s heart clenched.

He smiled back.

“I thought ‘ruin the wedding with an embarrassing speech’ was number one?”

Arthur laughed, his eyes shining like stars as he looked at Alfred. Or perhaps they were shining with stars. Alfred didn’t know. He wasn’t sure if the sky was clear or cloudy now that Arthur looked at him. Arthur sighed a long breath out of his nose, shaking his head when he looked back to the castle.

“Just don’t make a joke about the night we said I love you to each other.”

Alfred frowned. That had never happened. He parted his lips to question what on earth Arthur meant, but Arthur looked at him. Arthur turned and stared into his eyes with a neutral expression and his starlight eyes that hid far more than they told. Alfred’s heart felt like a broken lump of lead.

He smiled.

“You think I want to embarrass myself at  _your_  wedding?  _Please_ , memory number one is you hiding from your father in the bushes while I smooth talked him into believing I hadn’t seen you all day.”

Arthur’s snort of laughter peeled into a fit of giggles as the memory overflowed his embarrassment. His laughter filled the air, drowning out the faint sound of violins from over the grass. His smile was radiant in the silver light. His scrunched up eyes still shone under the moon. Arthur was perfection.

Alfred was his friend.

Alfred focused on his laughter and ignored the urge to cry.


End file.
